Dogs Ring Morning Bells Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

From a thick
groaning
night that sneaked
into dawn,

a moon quietly
swings its rays

to break up
a frozen world
still sleeping
on the backs of chirps,

thin rays
of nested sun
scratching off streaks

and round patches
of graphite,
a fat night
slimming down

into cream and beige
cotton specks
and the pale wings
of a cream morning,

light feathers
of air still gripping
a melting silver.

(ii)

But silence
has nibbled off
and gulped

down growls
of far-flung thunder,
leaving only

a seal-lipped air
drowned
by the running

sharp whistles
of awakening insects
stuck to louder flutes,

as soft rays
and brightening light
tumbles on lawns

and low-howling
and mumbling trees
building up shadows

to thicken trunks
and crawling roots,
as time creeps

on flattened paws
leaving no pawfalls.

(iii)

But strayed animals
have visited
the chilled yard

swelling into whining horses
and birds chattering
loudly through whistling leaves,

as wild dogs
bump through
a silent crack
of early morning

with stretched growls
and groans
thickening a louder chorus

of thunder and gales
stifling loud-mouthed
school bells children

cannot hear,
but awaken to the drums
and maracas

of rain on roof tops
growing louder
than bells unbolting life
for school children.